


Of Freelance Composers

by Melian12



Category: 18th Century CE RPF, Classical Music RPF, Historical RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, Attempt at Humor, Classical Music, George III. is a fanboy, Mozart is highly motivated, Nerdiness, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-10
Updated: 2018-01-10
Packaged: 2019-03-03 06:43:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,244
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13335648
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Melian12/pseuds/Melian12
Summary: Why Mozart was dismissed by archbishop Colloredo - and how he came to live in Wien as a freelance Composer.





	Of Freelance Composers

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Homosalate](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Homosalate/gifts).
  * A translation of [Vom freischaffenden Komponistenleben](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13049256) by [Melian12](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Melian12/pseuds/Melian12). 



> Thank you for your help with the translation! :)

It is a Saturday evening, 2nd June 1781. Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart dwells in his living room in Salzburg, pacing restlessly. He is bored. Not even the King of England wrote him today. Even though his letters never fail to contribute to our favorite composer’s amusement. The King worships Mozart inordinately. Mozart himself can only smile at this admiration for him. Or – as it is mostly the case – he is amused by it.

But today George III. seems to be too busy to be able to write letters to Mozart. Not even the archbishop has sent a word. Maybe Mozart should play the piano a little while, there is this one sonata he really should revise – but then certainly the neighbors will complain about him again. It is past 7 p.m. after all.

Then, a sudden thought hits him: it is Sunday tomorrow! It is Sunday tomorrow, and he has not yet composed a new mass. Chirpily, he sits down at his desk, gets out ink and paper and begins eagerly writing down notes. He is looking forward to the next morning when his orchestra will play it for him.

 

* * *

 

The first violin of the archbishop’s orchestra is not amused when his conductor shows up on Sunday morning, one hour before the mass, and hands out some sheets. He was just about to tell him proudly that the orchestra is now able to play the mass from last Sunday perfectly and without any mistakes.

But the conductor seems to have different plans. One glance at the parchment sheets confirms his suspicion: Mr. Mozart has spent his Saturday composing a new mass. Like last week. And the week before. Like every damned week! The first violin sighs. Maybe he should marry. If he had a wife to keep him busy on Saturday evening, maybe he would stop soon composing so many masses.

“Well, then we’re going to play my new mass today.” Mozart beams at the orchestra. In his enthusiasm, he completely overlooks the irritated looks, the suppressed groans and the quiet curses of his musicians. Generously, he gives them ten whole minutes to read through the notes (after all, this is nearly as long as the whole mass takes to play), then he knocks the baton on the music stand to get the orchestra’s attention. “Any questions? No? Great, let’s start! And one, two, three, four!”

Like every Sunday, the orchestra is jolly glad when the service is over and they have survived the struggle with the new mass without too many mistakes. Like every Sunday, Mozart walks home happily. He is a little annoyed with his orchestra, the musicians are too incompetent to play his beautiful music correctly, but he is really satisfied that his mass sounds just as wonderful as he has imagined it while composing.

But this Sunday, one thing is different. This Sunday, the first violin politely says goodbye to Mr. Mozart. Then, he walks straight to archbishop von Colloredo and tells him about the problems with his conductor and court composer who turns up with a new mass for every church service and expects the orchestra to play it perfectly immediately. Even though the orchestra makes every possible effort to perfect last Sunday’s mass during the week, in order to meet the composer’s requirements just once.

The archbishop listens to his first violin’s complaints and then ponders them thoroughly. Mozart, he has to admit, is a genius, and his music is as beautiful as nothing Hieronymus von Colloredo has ever heard. In comparison to him, the old masters pale into insignificance. And that his Mozart is demanding, this he knows as well. But after all, he has already made concessions to him. Nobody else would have allowed him to use kettledrums and trumpets in a mass, when even the pope spoke against this. But Mozart insisted on his kettledrums and trumpets, so he should have his kettledrums and trumpets.

And now that story about the new mass every Sunday… He has to take the orchestra’s complaints seriously, this the archbishop knows. After all, what use does a gifted composer have when there is no orchestra to play his music? He sees that he has to have a serious talk with Mozart. And so he summons him into his office the next Friday.

 

* * *

 

It is Friday, 8th June 1781. Mozart is pacing back and forth in the secretariat of the archbishop’s office for half an hour already. He is looking forward to talk to the bishop, as he has already considered the thought of requesting an audience. He wants to talk about the duration of his masses once more. That topic he has brought up several times already, but every time the bishop appeared to be intransigent. His masses must not be longer than twenty minutes, no matter under what circumstances, except the ones for high holidays. And this is bothers Mozart. How can he be able to fully express himself through his music if his time is restricted to about fifteen minutes? He is determined to gain half an hour today.

But the talk with the archbishop is definitely different than what Mozart had planned it to be. Instead of talking about longer masses, he has to justify himself to Colloredo for bringing a new mass every Sunday and expecting the orchestra to play it. “But, this is what an orchestra is for, isn’t it? To play music.” Mozart looks blankly at the bishop. The people in church would certainly get bored if there wasn’t a new mass every Sunday. They surely want to have some entertainment. And also the bishop himself preaches something different every Sunday.

Hieronymus von Colloredo is desperate. His court composer is unexpectedly intransigent. “Mr. Mozart, if you are not reasonable, I’m afraid I’ll have no other choice than dismiss you instantly. I would be very sorry to do so, as I would prefer to keep you in Salzburg. Your beautiful music is something I really enjoy…” Mozart is stunned. “But… if you enjoy my music… why don’t you show it just once?”

Now the archbishop gets angry. Not even Mozart is allowed to utter such an impudence in his presence. And he even has the barefacedness to hand in his notice himself before Colloredo is able to discharge him for dishonorable conduct. So he shall throw him out, now, right away! “Mr. Mozart, you will leave the archbishop’s residence at once! And a bit quick about it!”

Archbishop Hieronymus Franz Josef von Colloredo does not only throw Mozart out, he also shoves him down the stairs with a kick up the backside. For a moment, Mozart lies there dazedly. Again unemployed. Again he has to look for a new job. He slowly but surely gets fed up with that.

Then, he has an idea. Who says that he depends on a steady employment? He has enough admirers, the stack of letters from England is evident. No, he will not be looking for a new job this time. He will try and earn his money on his own now. Certainly his music will sell good enough.

Mozart gets to his feet, shakes the dust off his clothes and walks home. He is defiant and absolutely determined to get through with his plan. He whistles a joyful melody which he will write down as soon as he is home. Maybe there is already another letter from England waiting for him. Some amusement would do him good.


End file.
